Fight Night
by Dilapidated Roads
Summary: Butch hates being controlled. He hates being tied down by Leonardo's constant good-ness. He thinks he's going to leave, but Leo wont let that happen without a fight. Implied M!LW/Gob, Butch/OC.


Someone, please remind me why I brought this idiot back with me! Butch was bitching again, yelling at how he didn't agree to this, whatever 'this' is. Thomas, my ex-boyfriend, was crying, although I don't know if it was because Butch was yelling or because he still wasn't used to the Wastes yet. Probably both.

"You didn't agree to what, Butch?" I asked him, moved to anger myself.

"You! You're such a goody-goody. I thought this was gonna be an adventure, man," Butch yelled at the sky.

"Butch!"

"Listen, you're too good for me. Sure, you saved me, man, but I need to make my own decisions."

"Butch!" Thomas yelled in agony. "Please, don't leave me!"

Okay, so yes, Butch turned out to hoe the other row, even when he and his goons used to berate Thomas and I for doing just the same. Another reason why I question my sanity on the day that I took both of them out with me. It's alright though, because Thomas always had a crush on Butch, even when we were together. But, I still cared about Thomas, and I'll be damned if I let Butch break his heart.

~Later that Evening~

I hadn't been able to sleep since I heard the door close a few hours ago. I had Charon staying on one of the couches, so I expected him to stop Butch, but he didn't. I couldn't really blame him, because I didn't tell him to. I looked over to see Gob sleeping peacefully next to me, his arm laced around my torso.

I decided that I knew what I had to do. I slid out of Gob's arm and got up out of the bed. I considered that I was very lucky that Gob turned out to be a heavy sleeper, as he just grunted and turned over. I was still in my night-clothes, really it's just a blue t-shirt, and grey pants, so I went over to the filing cabinet.

Opening the top drawer, I grab my normal clothes from within its recesses. Why is a filing cabinet working as a dresser, you may ask? Well, because it has five drawers and it's big enough to hold clothes. I grab my light brown, leather boots and quickly lace them up. Before I leave the room, I look over at Gob, who was now on his back, his right arm over his chest, and his mouth hanging open the slightest bit. I walked over to him, kissed his forehead, and ran my hands through the little enough brown hair he still had.

I walked downstairs, trying to be as quiet as I could. I was pleasantly surprised to see Charon zonked out on the couch. From the kitchen, I heard soft sobs accented with the occasional sniff. How long has Thomas been crying? At first I make a move to go comfort him, but quickly decide against it. He wouldn't calm down, he'd just get more depressed. He's always been an enigma to be honest.

I walk over to the ammo closet-slash-locker and take out fifty 10mm rounds, hoping that I wouldn't have to use them. I crossed the room and opened my weapons closet and took out my pistol and holster. Honestly, I would only use it if Butch was already with a group of Raiders or something.

As I walked to the gates to the Wastelands, the loud screech of the gates grated against my ears. I'm fully convinced that I'll never get used to the sound of those doors. I looked around, as best I could with the darkness that surrounded me. There! Butch must've left the town, but just recently started to walk away.

I quietly run up behind him and jump on his back, holding his face into the ground for at least half a minute. Then I pulled him back up by his ridiculous black jacket.

"What the fuck, man?" Butch screamed, jumping back the smallest bit.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I screamed back at him, punching him in the jaw.

He staggered back, shocked at the fact that I managed to land a blow on him. He recovered faster than I would however, and I found myself on the ground, my left eye already swelling up. I rolled him around, twice, until I managed to get the upper hand and punched him on the chest.

The air left his lungs as quick as it would come in. I back off and slick my dusty, blond hair out of my eyes. I turned my back to him, which was a huge mistake. I found myself on my chest, teeth grinding into my neck. I felt a slight pop, heard someone spit, and knew that Butch had managed to draw blood.

This fight lasted longer than any other fight that we've ever had before. I lost my gun somewhere between twisting my ankle and loosing my voice. I looked up to see Butch pointing my own pistol in between my eyes.

"W-w-wait!" I exclaim, adrenaline beginning to pump inside my veins again. "Butch, you don't want to do this."

"Spare me the lecture," His voice raised suddenly. "I'm leavin' and that's that!"

"No, you're not," I told him calmly.

"What the fuck man?"

"Thomas loves you! You're not leaving him, and I'm not letting yourself get killed!"

"Don't baby me, Nosebleed."

"If you become a raider, I'll have to kill you. If not me, than someone else. Hell, they'll kill their own for fun."

Butch stayed silent, staring at me intently, the intensity of his blue eyes boring into my own. I grabbed my gun out of his hands and holstered it. I couldn't make his decisions for him, so I brushed past his shoulder and made my way back to Megaton, trying to staunch the blood flowing from the wound on my neck.

I heard almost silent footsteps trailing behind me and stole a glance in the general direction. Butch was following me, his head hung low. I allowed myself to smirk and I waited for him to catch up. Thomas was going to be so happy! And hell, why not admit it, I'm happy too.


End file.
